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"That's what you think. So you'll come?"
She went up on her tiptoes to snag a kiss. "I sure hope so."
The innuendo in her voice had him leaning in for a deeper exploration of her slick lips. She tasted like wine and strawberries. By the time he came up for air, he was hungry for the next course.
“So what’s for dinner?” he asked.
“Oh God! Dinner!”
Frankie sprinted out the door and downstairs to the grill. Jake didn’t follow, but he could hear her inventive curses from here. He carefully wiped all traces of laughter from his face as she climbed the stairs with a plate of very dark steaks.
“Not a word, Ryland. Not a word.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He wisely bit his tongue as she turned her back on him and began to carve the steaks, carefully cutting away the charred exterior. When her shoulders began to shake, he felt horrible.
Jake stepped up behind her and placed a hand over hers on the knife, halting her shaky progress. “Babe. Hey, come here. Don’t cry.” He tried to pull her into a hug, but she stepped back.
“I'm not crying." She turned so he could see her face. Shewascrying, but they were tears of laughter. "The look on your face…" She put the knife down and braced herself against the counter as she lost the battle with belly laughs.
Jake let his laughter free and they propped each other up until the worst of the giggles had passed. He held open his arms, and his world shifted when she stepped into his circle, accepting his hug. He would say it tilted off its axis, but it felt more like he’d been going through life at this crazy angle and had only just now had his balance righted.
Her arms locked around his waist, anchoring him to her, and she pressed her head against his chest while her chuckles calmed down. How could he have reached the age of thirty-six and not have known that there was a woman who fit perfectly in his arms? He pressed a kiss to her forehead while she rambled.
“I’m sorry I burned dinner. I’m so not a cook. Ma and Sofia can do dinner. Usually I'm solid on the grill, but then you walked in all hot and bothered, and I got distracted…”
Frankie was running her hands up and down his sides and he was trying to pay attention, but half his brain was being pulled along on a string by her wandering hands.
“So I distract you?”
CHAPTER21
Frankie caughtthe blatant satisfaction in his voice and grinned, eyes dry. She raised her hands to his shoulders and squeezed against his muscles full of stress. He melted into her, and she rolled them again.
“Do you like that?” she teased. “Knowing that you walk into a room and all I see is you? All I think is how much I want to ruffle you?”
“Ruffle me?”
“You walk onto the set all crisply combed, buttoned up, and ironed down.”
She slid her hands down his chest, smoothing the wrinkles from his cotton shirt. She thrilled at the way his heart leapt beneath her fingers.
Her hands climbed back up around his nape and squeezed. “And there I am, covered in drywall dust or who knows what muck, and I just want to get you a little dirty. Bring you down to my level.”
She ran her fingers up into his hair, giving him a good tousle. She was building his anticipation, touch by touch, and he was hooked.
“I really, really like ruffling you,” she murmured, her lips still brushing his, light enough to tickle.
“I do like knowing that I distract you. It seems only fair, since you distract the hell out of me."
"Oh really?" Frankie bit her lower lip coyly, and he growled.
"Do you know what I want to do when I see you?” His voice rasped in his throat like he’d just run five miles.
She leaned back and waited.
“I sit for hours every day, watching you on-screen. You walk around the jobsite in complete control. The guys on the crew jump to do your bidding."
